The Sword Speaks
by Flip-flop hobbit
Summary: Note: this story is incomplete. Legolas teaches a young hatred-filled elf-girl the better aspects of life and love.


Before you begin.. This idea came to me not as a Lord of the Rings fan fiction, but I later decided that there was no one better to teach a girl the ways of life than an elf, and who is more perfect to play that role than Legolas of the Woodland Realm? This story is not focusing on Legolas or the Lord of the Rings itself, but more the lessons that one can teach you. I have been told that I have an old soul. That my spirit has hung around for a long time and it has learned much. I'm going to take that and weave it into a tale. I know of one person who has already benefited from this story, and I hope that you will as well, as my reader. Continue.. and find what Legolas has to teach to your soul..  
  
Sweat streamed down Enaddacilien's brow, but she took no time to wipe it away. She was deep within sword training, the only thing that had any value to her life. She was alone, in a meadow. Or so she thought.  
  
"You should really rest or you will find yourself dehydrated upon the meadow grass."  
  
The elf girl stopped, startled, but not frightened. She whirled around to face the speaker, prepared to hold her sword threateningly at their throat. She was sent off balance by the opponent's sword against hers that struck with a mighty clang. She dropped her sword and stumbled back.  
  
"Who are you?" she dared. He was a tall elf. Graceful, with long silver- blonde hair. His piercing blue stare grasped hers. "Or do I want to know?" she spat.  
  
"You should know. Think this, little Enaddacilien: Ring." Infuriated by being referred to as little, she snatched her sword back and threw him a blow, which the handsome elf pushed away easily, looking into her eyes as if to sum her up. With a swift flick of his wrist, her sword was in the air. He caught it by the handle.  
  
"Are you going to listen or are you going to yield to the hate in your heart?"  
  
Enraged, but not willing to bow down, Enaddacilien huffed and leaned against a tree. Raising her brow she questioned him. "To whom do I speak?"  
  
"Legolas," he said, inclining slightly. She stood suddenly.  
  
"Why do you linger here in the presence of a peasant such as I? You are my prince, not a commoner."  
  
"So I am. I come to see if you listen. I come to find out if the life of someone I know can be improved."  
  
She began to walk about him, surveying Legolas as if he was a Rohan horse up for auction. He stood, holding her sword at his side. "And who may this be?"  
  
"You will find out when I see that you listen. Now I ask you as a friend, though a stranger, to a duel."  
  
Enaddacilien gave a short laugh. "Ha! You challenge me? That's a good one! For a bit of background information, I live for my sword. May I have it back, if you are truly serious?" Unfazed, Legolas handed her her weapon.  
  
"First," he said stepping back. "You need to live for more than that." He began to give her that calculating stare. He held out his sword with confidence. "Onguard," he said and the duel began. He parried her backwards. "You have courage I see. Plenty of that. Most fear the fighting skills that those in the Fellowship have. In fact, what do you fear, Enaddacilien?"  
  
She spun away, leaving him to fight emptiness. She lowered her sword. "Nothing. I fear nothing."  
  
"Then hold still for a moment." He strode up to her. She kept a firm grip upon her sword, though his own hung loosely at his waist. He stood inches away from her face for a second and then quickly snapped his hand forward as if to hit her. He stopped millimeters away from her skin. Her eyes were closed, but they flashed angrily open. She glared at him. "You are afraid of something." He backed away once again and raised his weapon "Onguard."  
  
"Then," she said, getting the upper hand of the fight. "What is it?"  
  
"Defeat, I would say." She knew he was right, and let the ringing of the metal upon metal respond for her. She gave a lunge and Legolas stepped deftly out of the way. "Intelligence lives within you as well. Dedication rules over you, though. I can't look over that. How long has it been since you first picked up a sword?"  
  
"I cannot say. Why do you query so?"  
  
Ignoring her question, he continued. "What do you dream about most often?"  
  
"Being a warrior." It was short and to the point.  
  
Legolas sighed and scraped his sword against hers, pushing it away. "I hope that the time for that has long since passed. Your devotion has come over your senses. Name something else that you think of other than sword fighting."  
  
"It is, my prince, my past, present, and my future."  
  
"So you prove my point." He seemed to fall forward for a second, but only held his blade's tip at her chest. "Touche."  
  
This he-elf had come so quickly and without a glance, told her what her strong points were. "There is much you lack, though, young friend. There is always time for learning." He slid his sword in its scabbard. "Until we meet again, Enaddacilien." He turned and strode across the field, mounted his horse, and rode away. Enaddacilien watched in wonder. 


End file.
